


Hey, Angel

by Writcraft



Category: BBC Radio 1 RPF, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Blow Jobs, Fallen Angel Nick, Hand Jobs, Implied Switching, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-16
Updated: 2017-10-16
Packaged: 2019-01-18 06:43:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12382992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writcraft/pseuds/Writcraft
Summary: Nick's a Guardian Angel who finds himself booted down to earth for snogging a demon. The weather is far too hot for rainbow wings, Nick's developed an unexpected allergy to feathers and he's trapped in the Hollywood Hills with a popstar who's driving him absolutely batshit. Is this hell?





	Hey, Angel

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Grimmy Fest 2017. Thanks so much to [akai-coat](http://akai-coat.tumblr.com/) and [iamlouisaf](http://imlouisaf.tumblr.com/) for reading through the fic, offering beta suggestions and helping me get back on track with the story. All remaining mistakes are my own.

_I don't wanna go to heaven_  
_If you're going to hell_  
_I will burn with you_  
_I will burn with you_

(Lea Michelle – Burn With You)  


The thing about being an angel is, wings are really fucking heavy. It’s fine when you’re in the clouds, but when you’re in a house with a ridiculous five-foot-nothing popstar who won’t stop playing Mr Brightside on their fancy electronic keyboard, they start to take their toll. You can’t stretch them out properly, because they’re fucking massive. Also, Nick’s allergic to feathers. Allergies work a bit differently when you’re Elsewhere, in that they don’t exist. On earth, allergies are fair game just like growing old, getting wrinkles and premature balding. Nick’s only been here a few weeks and he’s already noticed his crows’ feet getting deeper and a fleck of grey in his hair, just above his right ear.

Nick isn’t dead, obviously. He’s just not quite living in the same way as everyone else. What with the wings and the being a fallen angel thing. Fallen, as in booted unceremoniously out on his arse for getting pissed on the Liquor of Eternal Life and snogging a demon. Angels aren’t supposed to do that. They’re supposed to play harps and stuff.

So, Nick’s in a house with a bloke with an accent that sounds distinctly Northern and a terrible, awful, annoying high-pitched voice. A bloke with more money than sense if the giant statue of a comic book character is anything to go by. A bloke with an arse that looks good enough to…

Yep. It’s exactly that kind of thinking that got Nick chucked right out of Elsewhere to the Hollywood Hills, where it’s far too warm for feathers and it’s getting increasingly harder to hide. At least it’s handy ending up somewhere with bags of room. Half of the house is practically unused and Nick set up shop in an enormous walk-in wardrobe which currently holds a ratty pair of football boots and some Adidas Gazelles that look like they’ve been to one concert too many. There’s a faint smell of stale fags and it’s dusty as fuck, but it’s otherwise empty.

The other annoying thing about being an angel is the better than average hearing. The fact Nick can hear every conversation, rustle and creak in the house. Louis Tomlinson likes to sing in the shower. He likes to talk loudly on the phone to someone called Stan and he watches the footie far too much for Nick’s liking. Nick doesn’t know much about football but he learned enough in his Humans and Their Hobbies class to conclude that ninety minutes is far too long to watch people kick a ball around, even if those people do look quite good on occasion. Nick also knows that Louis swears a _lot_. He’s always on the phone to his family and when he’s not, he sits up until the early hours and smokes fag after fag, watching L.A. move beneath him. He sometimes wanks, but it’s always like he doesn’t want to let himself go. It’s a means to an end rather than anything pleasurable. He comes with a bitten-off cry and then turns off the light and doesn’t fall asleep for ages. Some nights he cries into his pillow. Even though neither of those things happen very often, Nick tries to put his feathers over his ears so he doesn’t hear because it’s intrusive and it makes his chest tight. He doesn’t want to like Louis. He wants to keep his professional angel-human distance and stay irritated so he doesn’t start doing something soft like coming out of hiding just to give Louis an awkward pat on the shoulder.

It's not too bad, hiding and grabbing the odd sandwich and can of Stella when he can. Nick’s fine with it. Really, he is. Bit lonely, sometimes. Nick likes company and he doesn’t sleep very well by himself when his wings are partially pulled into his body, but that’s all part of the punishment he supposes. 

Nick’s just going to bide his time and wait until someone gives him the signal that it’s time to go back to Elsewhere. The Powers That Be didn’t really give him much detail on the timing. They just said _we think it would be good for you to put your training into practice_ and the next thing Nick knew, he was in a walk-in wardrobe, sneezing all over himself and trying not to get discovered by a popstar with a dangerous glint in his eye who looks like exactly the sort of bloke who might try to pluck out one or two of Nick’s feathers.

Nick’s just not exactly sure what he’s meant to be _doing_ or how to go about approaching someone to mention you’re maybe their Guardian Angel. You’d think that might have been on the Guardian Angel syllabus. He’s going to need to have a word with people when he gets back and point out that knowing every album by The Stone Roses is marginally less useful than knowing how to avoid becoming some sort of other-worldly curiosity for humans to experiment on.

The door clicks and a car revs in the drive. Nick waits until he’s sure Louis is long gone before grabbing a towel and heading into the shower. Louis has a massive shower. Three of them. Nick’s tried them all and went for a splash around in the pool when Louis went to Vegas for a weekend. He feels a bit guilty nicking food and using all the decent shower gel, but not _too_ guilty. Louis is very lucky to have Nick as a guardian angel, even if Nick hasn’t done much more than creep around the house and steal socks so far.

He’ll reveal himself to Louis in good time, say something helpful and then bugger off back to Elsewhere.

It’s a solid plan.

*

Nick whistles as he comes out of the shower, towelling his hair and padding through the house. He pokes around in Louis’ fridge and wraps his towel around his waist.

“Yeah, Stan I’ll call you back. Some twat’s in my house.”

Nick freezes, stretching upright. He finds himself face to face with Louis who jabs a blunt kitchen knife in Nick’s direction.

“Hiya,” Nick says.

“ _Hiya_?” Louis jabs the knife again. Nick feels it’s probably not the right time to point that of all the knives to grab, the bread knife’s a pretty terrible choice. “Who the fuck are you?” Louis looks behind Nick and then incredulously back at him again. “Are those fucking _wings_ , mate?”

Nick lets his wings flutter and he rakes his hand through his hair, wincing. “Yeah, about that…”

*

It takes a good ten minutes to convince Louis to put the knife down and make a brew.

It takes another ten for Nick to put on some clothes – a pair of shapeless joggers and a t-shirt (with room cut out for the wings) with someone that looks like Louis on the front, grinning with four other boys. He looks about twelve and Nick’s convinced by the sharp smile he gets when he goes back into the kitchen that Louis chose the t-shirt for some evil purpose of his own.

“You’re not a bloody angel.”

“I am, actually. A fallen one.” Nick’s quite proud about that. It makes him sound dangerous. Perhaps he should get a motorbike and start wearing leather. He turns and flutters his wings. “See? Not a costume.”

“Hmm.” Louis sounds sceptical. “So, what? You’re from, like, heaven?” 

Nick turns back to Louis and shakes his head. “We call it Elsewhere.”

Louis stares at Nick. “Elsewhere?”

Nick rolls his eyes. “Bit more inclusive than heaven, innit?”

“Oh.” Louis furrows his brow. “Why aren’t you there, then?”

“Long story.” Nick huffs when Louis responds with a raised eyebrow that indicates he’s got plenty of time. “ _Fine_. I got caught with a demon.”

“Doing what?” Louis sounds more suspicious by the minute.

“Well I was about to have a bit of fun before I got hauled away and booted down here, not that it’s any of your business.”

Louis’ cheeks flush lightly and he presses his lips into a line. Nick can almost hear his mind whirring.

“Problem with that?” Nick’s wings curl and he glares at Louis.

“My fucking _problem_ is that I’ve got some bloke with wings in my house telling me he’s from-” Louis waves his hand around and mutters indignantly “- _Elsewhere._ ”

“Bit of a surprise, I imagine.” Nick musters a grin which Louis meets with an irritated scowl.

“Just a bit.” Louis drums his fingers on the kitchen counter. “Is this hell, then?”

Nick frowns at Louis. “Any reason to think it might be?”

“No.” Louis shrugs. “But I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Nick takes that in, an unexpected sadness clutching at his heart. “It’s not. That’s the Other Place. For when people do really bad stuff. We don’t like to talk about it, much.”

“I caught you in my house wearing a towel, mate. If I’ve got questions, you’re answering them.”

Nick pulls a face. “I didn’t ask to be here.” Nick might have a nice cup of hot tea in his hand but he’d really prefer a vodka. “Don’t know what they were thinking sending me to a stupid posh house in Hollywood. Seems like there might be people who need an angel more than you.”

Louis stares at Nick. “I don’t need a fucking angel. I didn’t ask for you to be here.” He glares and folds his arms. He looks like an angry pixie and Nick’s seen enough of those in his time to know they have to be handled very carefully. “What’s so stupid about my house, anyway?”

“That comic book statue for a start.” Nick gestures behind him. “Also, Mr Brightside? Find a new song, mate.”

Louis lets out a strangled sound and he steps closer to Nick, his cheeks red. “It’s _my fucking house_. I’ll play whatever I want.” As if to prove a point, Louis extracts a remote control and puts Mr Brightside on loud enough that he has to shout over the music. “Got it?”

“Got it.” Nick holds up his hands. “Stop being a pillock and put on some Rihanna or summat. Fucks sake.”

Louis turns down the volume but he doesn’t change the music. He tips his chin, looking mutinous. “Go on, then.”

“Go on then _what_?” Nick grits his teeth.

“Fly.” Louis points at the expansive glass doors Nick had grudgingly been admiring when Louis left the house to get enough frozen pizza to feed a small army. “Prove it.”

Nick raises his eyebrows. “You think I can just fly about over a massive American city with these things?” He gives his wings an experimental flutter and Louis takes a step back as if he thinks Nick’s feathers are going to tickle him to death. “Anyway, it’s like they’re clipped here. Can’t fly anymore. Not properly. I’ll only be able to fly again when I’m back and I’m buggered if I know when that’s going to be.” Nick sits firmly on a high kitchen stool in case Louis has any ideas of pushing him through the doors and off the balcony just to test his theory.

“How do I know you’re not winding me up?” Louis peers at Nick’s wings and steps closer again. He looks as if he wants to touch them. Nick should probably warn him off that or at least explain the consequences before he starts stroking Nick’s feathers. The thought sends a warm pulse of pleasure through Nick and he crosses his legs primly. _There’ll be none of that_ , he reprimands himself. _Best behaviour, Grim._

“Bit of an elaborate wind up.” Nick snorts and lets his wings spread out fully. He’s been keeping them at half-mast in case Louis set them on fire with his fag. He seems like that kind of bloke. It feels ace, stretching them out. It’s been far too long cooped up trying to avoid bumping into Louis. “Think I might’ve gone for something a bit craftier than the massive wings if I wanted to rob you.”

“Suppose.” Louis stretches his hand towards one of Nick’s wings. “Can I? To see if they’re real?”

Nick shrugs and the wings flutter. They seem to want to reach towards Louis of their own accord, which never happens. “If you like. Should warn you before you do though.”

“Warn me?” Louis’ hand hovers and he doesn’t move any closer.

“Feels nice having my wings touched.” Nick winks at Louis and makes sure he gets the full implication. “ _Nice_ , nice.”

Louis yanks his hand back and Nick’s wings give a disappointed flutter. His cheeks turn pink and he shoves his hands in his pockets, looking away from Nick.

“Better find a nice girl-angel to touch them for you, then.”

Nick rolls his eyes and resists the urge to make a scathing comment about Louis really being terrible at picking up on the signs. Like the fact Nick’s been giving him the eye for the last half hour and the huge fucking rainbow wings for a start.

“Are you serious?”

Louis shrugs. He meets Nick’s gaze again. “Not into that?”

“Not with _girls_ , no.” Nick flutters his wings. “We don’t all get lucky enough to get wings this colourful. I earned them.”

“By shagging demons?” 

“Sod off. I’ve had enough judgment to last me a lifetime, thanks.”

Louis scrutinises Nick. “Are you dead?”

Nick pushes aside the way his wings really _would_ quite like to be stroked by Louis and shakes his head. “No. Bit rude of you to ask, though. Bet you’re the sort to ask a ghost how he died.”

“I don’t really have that many conversations with ghosts, funnily enough.” Louis’ eyes narrow. 

“Don’t blame you.” Nick stands and stretches, enjoying the ability to take up space at last. “Boring as fuck. I try to avoid them, too.”

Louis shakes his head as if he needs to clear it. “I don’t get it.”

Nick sighs. He supposes it is a bit much to expect Louis to understand the whole angel thing. “I’m an Angel-born. It means I started off as an angel. Grew up like this. Didn’t always have the wings, obviously.”

“Obviously,” Louis says, faintly.

“Some people become angels after they die. Human-born, we call them. They just swoop right on into Elsewhere, with all the wings and stuff from the start. Smug bastards. Doesn’t happen to everyone who starts out here, though.”

“Oh.” Louis thinks for long enough that Nick can practically hear the cogs whirring. “How do they decide?”

“No idea.” Nick shrugs. “Beyond my job description, that.”

“What about the others?” Louis’ voice is small. “The ones who don’t get wings?”

Nick resists the urge to reach for Louis which is unexpected, unsettling and bloody inconvenient. Nick’s not quite sure what he’s supposed to be doing, but he’s fairly certain it doesn’t involve trying to snog a sad looking popstar. He wonders who Louis’ thinking about. He doesn’t want to ask in case he doesn’t know them. Louis might have someone he really wants to be an angel and Nick doesn’t want to take that away from him. Nick can be a bit of a knob sometimes, but he’s not cruel. 

“It’s different for everyone. They’re safe, though. Warm. Happy. Loved. We get told that a lot. It’s one of the first things you learn if you become an angel after you die. Every Angel-born does the class too, so we’re ready for any questions when a Human-born rocks up. One of my mates is Human-born and he found it hard. They thought it would be a big family reunion. It’s not, and that can get lonely. It’s better when you realise they’re there, but just not flying around and drinking in the bars and stuff. He said you can, like, feel them. The others. I can too. All of them.”

“What do they feel like?” Louis looks at Nick, eyes wide and voice rough.

Nick clears his throat and his eyes prick with tears. It makes him emotional, when he thinks about it. It’s overwhelming. Impossible to put into words, particularly when your vocabulary consists of Northern slang and an impressively useless knowledge of earth pop music. “Sunlight. Like sunshine on a warm summer’s day. That’s how they feel. Bright.”

“I like that,” Louis says. He twists his hands together and looks out of the window. A slant of sunlight filters through, catching the dust. It makes the whole house light and warm. 

Nick nods towards the hall. “Can I use your bathroom?”

“You need to do that?” Louis looks curious.

“Yeah, ‘course.” Nick tucks his wings in a bit so they don’t look quite so ostentatious. Louis still looks fascinated by them. Nick feels a bit like a peacock. “Still have to piss, angel or not.”

“Go on, then. It’s-”

“I know.” Nick leaves the room, whistling. “Been here for a while, remember?” 

Louis doesn’t answer and Nick takes his time emptying his bladder and washing his hands with the soap. It smells like citrus fruit and summer.

*

“How long are you here for?” Louis asks, when Nick finds him on the balcony with a beer in hand. He stares out over the skyline and smog of the city, a beer freshly opened for Nick. “Got you a beer, if you can drink.”

“I can drink. That’s part of the problem. I wouldn’t have looked at that demon twice if it hadn’t been for the booze.”

Louis’ lips twitch into a smile. “That happens.”

“Yeah.” Nick sips his beer. It’s ice-cold and refreshing. It’s the best thing he’s tasted in days. “I’m here until they decide it’s time for me to go back.”

“What if they never let you go back?” Louis glances at Nick.

“Stuck here then, aren’t I?” Nick shrugs. He doesn’t want to think about being stuck in limbo forever. It makes his chest tighten and he reaches into his pocket for his puff-puff. 

“Must be hell,” Louis mutters.

Nick frowns at Louis after taking a couple of pulls on his inhaler. At least the anti-histamines he nicked from Louis’ bathroom seem to be kicking in. “I already said it’s not. I just don’t much fancy being somewhere I’m not wanted and hiding away for the rest of my life.”

“You don’t have to hide.” Louis looks up. “Not now that I know about you.”

Nick shrugs. “But you’ll meet a pretty girl and go back to Donny to have lots of little Tomlinsons. I’ll be stuck here getting old and then someone will move in with twenty cats, I’ll be more allergic than I already am and I’ll have to go back to hiding in the walk-in wardrobe. They might have more clothes than you. Might even use the wardrobe, then I’m totally fucked.” Nick starts to panic and Louis rolls his eyes at him.

“I’m not going anywhere, calm down. I’m not going to sell up and leave you in the fucking wardrobe.” He picks at the label on his beer bottle. “Not much fear of that, anyway.” Louis looks out into the darkness. “The girl bit. The little Tomlinsons.”

“Oh.” Nick nods. “Well. You’ve got these to look forward to if you’re one of those that ends up being an angel. You could do your Guardian Angel training, like me. It seems as though people like us need their Guardian Angels more than most.” He gives his rainbow wings a flutter.

“Sick.” Louis smiles around his beer and glances at Nick. “You’re a Guardian Angel? I thought you were just…fallen or somthing.”

“Level Eight, passed with distinction.” Nick tries not to puff his chest out. He’s pretty proud of that, if he’s honest. “Was always rubbish at the history and stuff. I used to get told off for talking all the time. I liked the Guardian Angel classes, though. That and music. They like us to know our cultural references in case we need to interact with humans.” 

“Oh.” Louis looks at Nick. “Why are you here?”

“I don’t bloody _know_ , I already told you-”

“-No,” Louis interrupts. “I mean, why here? Why me?”

Nick glances at Louis and he swallows back his response when he takes in the dark circles under Louis’ eyes and the fact he doesn’t sound like he’s taking the piss.

“Dunno.”

Louis breathes into his beer and it makes a whistling sound. He laughs, but it doesn’t sound like he finds the situation very funny. “Someone reckons I need a Guardian Angel, I’m guessing.”

“Yeah.” Nick sips his beer and thinks about that. “I’m guessing that too.

They sit in silence as L.A. murmurs around them.

*

“Oi!”

Louis has pointy elbows, pointy fingers and a sharp, annoying voice. Nick hates him.

“I’m asleep.”

“You’re not.” The bed dips and Louis pokes Nick in the side again. “Wake up.”

“I’m asleep.” Nick rolls over and puts the pillow over his head. It’s blissful being in a bed again. Nick crashed out right after the beers. He doesn’t appreciate being woken up in the middle of an excellent dream about flying, when it’s his first night sleeping on something other than the floor in ages. 

Louis prods Nick again, clearly a believer in _third time’s a charm_. “Wake up, or I’ll pull one of your feathers out.”

“Don’t you fucking dare.” Nick sits up and pulls his wings inside his body. It hurts, having them like that. It hurts but a hell of a lot less than it would hurt if Louis fucking Tomlinson decides to start yanking out his feathers.

Louis’ face is dark but for the silvery moonlight flickering over his cheekbones. Not that Nick has any interest in Louis’ cheekbones.

“I didn’t know you could do that.”

“What?”

“The thing with your wings.” Louis looks like he wants to touch again.

“Yep.” Nick rolls over onto his belly, because Louis is curious as fuck and he’s bound to want to investigate. “See?” His voice is muffled by the pillow.

“Yeah.” Nick lets Louis poke lightly at two slim lines on his back, raised where the wings disappear. Nick knows what they look like because he’s checked them out in the mirror before. He’s a bit vain, for an angel. “Louis?”

“Mmm?” Louis is clearly fascinated, his fingers doing all kinds of things to Nick’s cock.

“Same rule. Feathers. Where the feathers _go_. You’re a couple of strokes away from bringing me off.”

Louis’ fingers retract and he clears his throat. “Could have said.”

“Could have made me not want to tuck my wings in.” Nick rolls over and stretches, wincing at the dull ache in his back. “It hurts.”

“Then don’t fucking tuck them in. Christ.” Louis looks cross, as if he hasn’t just threatened Nick with unnecessary feather pulling.

“You’re the one on about chopping my feathers off. How would you like it if I chopped off one of your fingers?” Nick glances at Louis. “My wings want to feel safe. They’re going to hide, if you’re going to be a dick.”

Louis looks apologetic. “I won’t chop anything off. I was just being a shit. I do that sometimes. I wouldn’t hurt you.”

“I know.” Even if his wings have gone into hiding, Nick does know that Louis wouldn’t hurt him. Not intentionally, at least. Nick takes in Louis, frowning and tired-looking on the edge of the bed. His Guardian Angel instincts kick in. “Why are you even up?”

“Couldn’t sleep.” Louis shrugs. “I get tired but when I try to sleep, it doesn’t happen.”

Nick thinks of the amount of times he would hear Louis playing Mr Brightside at all hours and suddenly it doesn’t seem so funny anymore.

“Got any hot chocolate?”

Louis nods. “Some powdered stuff. From me mum. Dunno if it’s any good. It’s Cadbury’s.”

Nick nudges Louis with his foot. “Bit too complicated for you?” Nick’s been around long enough to know Louis’ shit at cooking. It’s all frozen pizzas, chicken nuggets and the odd potato waffle.

Louis glares. “Shut up.”

“It’s _powder_.” Nick pulls on some tracksuit bottoms and resists the urge to roll his eyes. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?” Louis follows Nick into the kitchen. It really fucking _aches_ having wings inside him. It’s been so long since he’s had to hide them, he’d forgotten how much it hurts. 

“I’m teaching you how to make hot chocolate.”

“How would you know how to make anything? You’re an angel.”

Nick winks at Louis. “No, _you’re_ the angel, darling.” 

Louis crosses his arms and huffs. “Shut up and make me some hot chocolate.”

“Will do.” Nick puts a pan on the stove, grabs some milk and wonders why no one has done this for Louis before. He heats the milk carefully and shivers when Louis puts a hand on his back where his skin is sensitive and the ache from his wings has started to travel outwards, his back tingling unpleasantly and the fiery bursts of pain stretching like veins from the part of his back where his wings are twisted in on themselves. “Louis…”

“Don’t hide them, you twat.” Louis brushes his fingers against one of the scars. It’s light enough to be just on the right side of exquisite pain. “ _Please_.”

“Might want to stand back a bit.” Nick keeps an eye on the milk and releases his wings. He lets them out fully, fluttering them in relief and heaving a sigh of pleasure. “Better. Thanks.”

“S’okay.” Louis doesn’t stop touching Nick. He brushes his fingers lightly over the feathers, which flutter and twist under every light press of Louis’ fingers. There’s something about Louis that makes Nick’s wings respond like they’re not connected to his brain and they seem to want to wrap around Louis and keep him close against Nick’s body. Nick’s body would quite like that too, if he’s honest. Mercifully Louis stops nosing at Nick’s feathers and he pulls himself up on the kitchen counter, watching Nick make their hot chocolate. “How long have you been an angel?”

“No idea.” Nick shrugs. “All my life. Time moves differently there. A few hundred years in human time, I reckon.”

“You don’t look a day over forty.” Louis gives Nick a sharp smile and Nick gives Louis the finger.

“Thirty-something in your years, thanks all the same.”

“Must be all that hard angel living.” Louis peers into the saucepan and he kicks his heels against the counter. Nick’s starting to suspect Louis has some destructive tendencies. His wings slide inwards a little. “I’ve got marshmallows. The little ones. Cream, too.”

“Go on, then.” Nick makes a shooing motion in Louis’ direction. “Better get them.”

Louis rummages around, returning with chocolate flakes, marshmallows, and a can of squirty-cream. It’s been ages since Nick’s had whipped cream. The last time he had it, he was licking it off a Warlock’s nipple. _Not_ something he wants to repeat. They’re hairy fuckers, warlocks. Unpredictable, too.

Nick tips the hot chocolate into the mugs, adding some flakes of chocolate, marshmallows and the cream. He nods towards the living room. “Want to sit somewhere comfier?”

“Can do.” Louis slides off the kitchen counter and traipses after Nick. He hovers when Nick arranges himself on the sofa, looking at the armchairs and back at the sofa. 

“Plenty of room for two,” Nick says. He pats the cushion next to him.

“Not with those massive wings of yours.” Louis’ cheeks turn pink but he sits next to Nick anyway. 

“Don’t offend them.” Nick stretches them out and Louis edges closer. It’s weird, how they want to curl in like an arm around Louis’ shoulder. Nick’s wings usually do what he tells them, rather than going off and cuddling people without his say-so. 

“I like them.” Louis looks up at Nick, his eyes shining and whipped cream on his lip.

Nick refuses to be charmed. _Refuses_.

*

Nick wakes slowly to the low hum of the television, reporting about some idiot in the White House who seems to be making all kinds of terrible decisions. His allergies don’t feel so bad this morning and he’s warm and toasty. He wiggles his toes and shifts, stilling when he realises his current predicament which involves Louis Tomlinson pressed against his body and huffing in his sleep.

Nick’s wings have taken it upon themselves to wrap around Louis and press him back against Nick’s body, where they’re stretched out on the sofa. At some point during the night, Louis must have pulled the blanket over them and it’s arranged just below his smile as he mumbles something in his sleep. Nick really could do with going for a piss and he’s getting cramp in his left leg, but he also doesn’t want to move. He’s half-hard and Louis looks peaceful at long last. His eyes are still shadowed, but he’s sleeping – properly sleeping – and Nick can’t help himself. He brushes Louis’ hair from his forehead and pulls Louis closer.

Going to the loo can wait for a few minutes. Nick closes his eyes and breathes in the scent of the L.A. morning air, and the citrus from Louis’ shampoo.

*

Nick wakes to a loud banging noise in the kitchen and he scrubs his eyes with the back of his hand, groaning. It’s chillier without Louis pressed against him.

“What’s going on?”

“Making breakfast.” Louis comes into the living room, dressed in slouchy joggers and a jumper that looks three sizes too big. “You’re not veggie, are you?”

“Don’t be daft.” Nick stretches and lets out a hum of contentment. Breakfast actually smells good, which considering Louis can’t make a hot chocolate is nothing short of a miracle. Perhaps Nick’s angel skills are rubbing off on Louis after all. Maybe that’s what he’s here to do? Get Louis cooking and introduce him to the wonders of kale, so he doesn’t turn into a frozen potato. “Want a hand?”

“No.” Louis goes back into the kitchen and Nick follows him. It looks like a disaster zone. There’s a discarded pile of burned scrambled eggs and a stack of pans on the sink but the second attempt looks better. The bacon sizzling in a frying pan has Nick’s mouth watering. Louis pokes his nose into a pan, peering at the contents. “How long does it take to boil an egg?”

“Depends how you like them.” Nick shrugs. “Three minutes. Four?”

“Shit.” Louis curses under his breath, fishing out the eggs and looking despondent.

“S’alright. I like them hard boiled.” Nick doesn’t. He’s fond of buttery slices of toast and a runny yolk he can dip the soldiers in like he’s a kid again. He doesn’t want Louis to feel bad though and an egg’s an egg. 

Louis plates up their food and sits at the dining table, pulling out a chair next to him for Nick. There’s something a bit sad about the dining room. It’s ostentatious and pristine and it doesn’t look like Louis at all. The table is long enough to fit twelve people, but Nick’s pretty sure he’s never seen it used. Louis doesn’t seem the sort for dinner parties. If he has friends around at all, it’s usually for pizza and video games. They all sit around on the floor or on bean bags, eating pizza slices straight from the stacks of cardboard boxes because Louis always overorders. Nick knows this because he’s helped himself to slices of hot, gooey pizza on those nights and no one even noticed.

“Good?” Louis sounds hopeful, his fork hovering close to his mouth.

“Really good,” Nick says. He’s not even lying this time. The eggs are a bit overdone but the rest of the meal is perfect. The beans are hot and tasty and the sausage is right on the cusp of being burnt, which is just how Nick likes them. The toast is thick, generously sliced and covered with lashings of butter and the whole thing makes Nick’s stomach swoop. Louis looks dead proud of himself. Nick swallows around the lump in his throat and focuses on his food, because it’s a bit much seeing Louis so bright-eyed for a change.

“I’ve got more questions,” Louis says. He nudges a mug of piping hot coffee towards Nick. “Loads more questions.”

“Okay.” Nick pushes a hand through his hair and meets Louis’ gaze. “Fire away.”

Louis does. He asks the obvious (what it’s like to fly) the ridiculous (whether angels sleep on clouds like anybody would want to sleep on a massive rainy thing) and the nosy (how Nick gets his end away with _stupid wings like that_ ).

They talk long enough for the sun to set on the day and Louis orders pizza which they eat on the balcony, the silence between them surprisingly comfortable.

*

Nick rolls over when he feels a dip in the bed. Louis isn’t prodding at him this time, but Nick knows it’s him. He keeps his eyes closed.

“Can’t sleep?”

“No.” Louis shifts on the bed. “Annoying, I bet.”

“S’alright.” Nick lets his wings flutter out. He knows Louis isn’t going to chop them off or anything daft now. “It’s what I’m here for, maybe. I dunno. I don’t need much sleep, either.”

“No?” Louis sounds curious. Nick blinks his eyes open. The room is dark but he can make out the shape of Louis perched on the edge of the mattress.

“No. I slept in a wardrobe for weeks, didn’t I?” Nick grins at Louis. He thinks his smile probably looks a bit wide and toothy in the moonlight, but Louis doesn’t seem to mind.

“Can I?” Louis reaches out to touch one of the feathers just at the edge of Nick’s wings. He really is fascinated by them.

“Yeah. Remember what I said, though.”

“I know.” Louis tentatively touches the feathers which flutter and arch towards him. _Fuck_. Nick’s wings never do that. Not ever. 

“They like you,” Nick says. The night is warm and sleepy and Nick wants a bit of a cuddle. Louis looks as though he wouldn’t mind one either and Nick tugs on his hand. “Fancy a snog?”

Louis stares at Nick and pulls his hand back. Nick’s wings try not to flap with disappointment.

“What?”

“Might help you sleep.” Nick lifts the duvet and shuffles across to one side of the bed. “It’s nice, kissing. I like it. Doesn’t have to be anything more. Not unless you want. I like a cuddle. Don’t you?”

Louis licks his lips. They shine in the moonlight. “Wouldn’t know. It’s been ages since I’ve had a good snog.”

“Come on, then.” Nick really is trying to be helpful. “If you want.”

“I…yeah.” Louis slips between the sheets. His breathing gets ragged as he blinks at Nick in the half-light from the moon. He’s gorgeous, Louis is. Fierce and vulnerable. Pretty and masculine. A beautiful contradiction. Nick slides his hand over Louis’ cheek and urges him closer.

“Sure?” Nick can be forgiven for the fact his voice gets rough. Louis really is something else.

“Sure,” Louis says. As if to prove it, he closes the distance between them.

The kiss is soft and slow. Sweet and warm. It takes a minute for Nick’s brain to engage and he pushes closer to Louis. _Just a kiss_ , he thinks. A bit of a kiss and a cuddle. Instead, Louis whimpers into his mouth as Nick deepens the kiss. Fucking _whimpers_. It sends Nick’s everything into overdrive. His heart, his cock, his wings. It’s all too much. He pulls Louis closer still, rolling him onto his back and settling over him. The kiss deepens. Slow, dirty and open-mouthed with their tongues sliding together and Louis making the most amazing sounds.

“Christ,” Nick says, when he can finally catch his breath. “I mean… _god_.”

“Sorry.” Louis doesn’t look sorry. He just looks flushed and caught off-guard. “It’s been a while.”

Nick thinks of the moments of pleasure he tried his damned hardest not to hear. The bitten-off cries and the wide-awake staring at the ceiling which followed. He brushes his fingers over Louis’ cheek, taking in the heat of them and the way Louis holds his breath as if he’s waiting for Nick to do something. 

“Doesn’t matter.” Nick pushes his hand slowly under Louis’ t-shirt. “Want to do more than snog?”

Louis nods, his eyes bright. He doesn’t say a word. They breathe together and Nick keeps a careful eye on Louis as his fingers edge higher.

“Nick?” Louis sounds a bit rough and breathless.

“Mmm?”

“I want to…you said it feels good, with the wings. How does that work?”

Nick huffs with laughter under his breath. Not because it’s funny but because it’s charming as fuck and Louis is _gorgeous_ and he really doesn’t have to do a lot for Nick’s wings to be into it. He thinks for a moment and then brushes Louis’ hair back from his face.

“What do you like?”

“Me?” Louis pauses for a moment and then shrugs, his cheeks pink. “The usual. Someone blowing me. Fingering. Fucking.”

“Hmm.” Nick brushes his hand along Louis’ side and takes in his shiver. “Fingering or being fingered? Fucking or being fucked?”

Louis is even redder in the cheeks now. Nick thinks it’s delightful. “Both. Like it done to me most, though.”

“That works.” Nick brushes his lips against Louis’ and it already feels dirty even when it’s just a breath and the briefest touch. There’s something about the build-up. Something about the _possibility_ which makes his body hum with pleasure. “Want to stroke them while I finger you?”

Louis lets out a strangled _nnngh_ which Nick takes to mean _yes please_. He grins and kisses Louis on the nose which earns him a sharp jab in the side. “Got any lube?”

“Bathroom. Top drawer.” Louis clearly isn’t moving anywhere, so Nick rolls off him with a huff. He goes to the bathroom and retrieves what he needs before padding back into the bedroom. When he gets in, Louis is completely starkers, flushed from his chest up and so fucking _hot_ it makes Nick finally understand how it might feel to lose your mind over someone. Not to be outdone, he kicks off his joggers and he doesn’t miss the way Louis looks at him as if he likes what he sees. He tries not to preen. It’s always nice to be the object of desire for a good-looking boy.

“Come on, then.” Louis sounds sharp and impatient, but Nick doesn’t miss the way his words quake and tremble.

“Coming. _Demanding_.” Nick slides into bed with Louis. He rolls over and leans back against the pillows, shifting up into a seated position. He taps his thighs. “Want to sit here?”

“Yeah.” Louis doesn’t need asking twice. He straddles Nick and presses close to him, lifting himself to give Nick the best access. His cock is slim and curves at the tip, long and beautiful and exactly the right kind of size for Nick to have all kinds of ideas involving Louis inside his body, inside his mouth, sliding against his tongue…

Nick bites back a groan and squeezes Louis’ backside. Another excellent part of Louis’ anatomy. The best. Nick can’t stop touching, his fingers pressing into Louis as he watches every flicker of pleasure cross Louis’ features.

“Go on, then.” Nick’s voice is rough and – he hopes – reassuring. “You can just…touch them. Whatever. It’s going to feel good. You don’t need to do anything fancy.”

“Okay.” Louis frowns in concentration and _oh_. His fingers dance lightly over Nick’s wings and his breath hitches as the touches get bolder. There’s something weird about it. Something about the way Nick’s so sensitive to Louis’ touch. He’s always gone on about his wings being an erogenous zone, but it’s often slightly tongue in cheek. With Louis, Nick can feel every stroke of his fingers as if they're directly on his cock. Every tentative slide of Louis’ hands over his feathers makes them flutter and curl. If he were a cat, Nick would be purring right about now. “Feel good?” Louis looks as though he knows exactly how it feels because he’s got a smug, excited look which is more endearing than it has any right to be.

“Excellent, darling.” Nick tries to sound blasé but he doesn’t think he quite manages it. He uncaps the lube and gets his fingers slick because two can play at this game. He’s got an excellent plan which mainly involves getting Louis hot and hard enough that he can’t remember his own name for a bit. Nick knows he has good fingers for this. Knows he has ridiculous hands that he often waves around when he’s gesturing about something that makes him happy or irritated. He also knows Louis looks at them sometimes, when Nick curls his fingers around a bottle of beer or when he makes a wild gesture, like during that debate they had on the best Oasis song.

Nick pulls Louis closer, keeping an arm around him. “Okay?” He slides slick fingers over Louis’ hole and he drinks in the tremor that passes through Louis. “Okay, love?” Nick asks again. He wonders how long it’s been for Louis. He’s way more responsive than Nick expected. He almost comes apart from Nick’s touch and Nick isn’t even inside him yet.

“Yeah. Fine.” Louis whistles out a breath and arches his back when Nick presses against his hole. His cheeks are pink and Nick wants to kiss him. He wants to kiss him so much he tugs him close and presses their lips together again. This time there’s no lazy sweetness to the kiss. It’s a biting, breathless thing which leaves Nick shaking. It’s hard and urgent and Nick can’t get enough of the taste or the smell of Louis. He pushes a finger slowly into Louis and drinks in his reactions. Every flex of Louis’ body, every twist and whimper. Nick really likes the noises Louis makes. He can tell he’s choking them back and biting his lip hard enough to hurt and Nick doesn’t want that.

“Come on, darling. Let me hear you.” Nick breathes into Louis’ ear, adding another finger and pushing slowly in and out of Louis. He picks up the pace, twists and turns his hand and luxuriates in the beautiful sound of Louis letting go. It’s mad, being able to see Louis turn from pink-cheeked and defensive to pliant and eager with every new push and turn. Louis almost takes control of the movements, leaving a trail of hot kisses against Nick’s skin.

“Fuck me, Nick.” Louis’ voice is rough and just quiet enough that Nick hear it again. “ _Fuck me_.”

“Can you come like this?” Nick presses his lips to Louis’ ear, nibbling at the lobe. Every part of Louis tastes good. The salty perspiration on his skin, the scent of citrus which Nick knows is always going to remind him of Louis from now on. The heat of his pulse beneath Nick’s tongue and the pounding of his heart as he presses close to Nick. Nick’s had a lot of sex, but not like this. _Never_ like this. There’s a strange _pat, pat_ as his heart beats for Louis and it’s overwhelming. “We’ve got time. Don’t know how long I’ll last if we try to fuck.”

“I…” Louis groans as Nick pushes his fingers into him again and rocks over Nick. “ _Fuck_.”

“Is that a yes?” Nick likes that Louis can’t speak. Likes that it’s almost too much to take, that heat and the powerful ebb and crest of desire. He wants to do this to Louis _so much_. Wants to get him off, instead of stopping. He slides his fingers from Louis and nudges him off Nick’s thighs and onto his back. He lubes his fingers again, pushing two into Louis and moving down his body to lick and suck at Louis’ cock. He teases. Uses his tongue to pull the best sounds from Louis and lets him sweat and shudder and arch before Nick finally gives in to the push and pull of Louis’ hands in his hair. He slides his mouth firmly over Louis and takes him into the back of his throat. Louis jerks up enough that Nick has to spread his free hand on Louis’ hip to hold him in place as he takes him apart.

Nick’s wings flicker, flutter and curl around them both in a protective layer of darkness. It’s almost like he _could_ fly with Louis, not that he’s about to try. Nick wants to give Louis every pleasure and he doesn’t know why it matters but it does. It _does_. He’s not usually like this in bed. He usually likes to get to the fucking, hard and fast and bringing himself off inside someone else as they moan his name and he can tug at their hair. With Louis, it’s different. Nick’s so hard and _aching_ to get off, but he wants Louis to get off first. He wants Louis loud, trembling apart and pulsing his pleasure into Nick’s throat. He wants to leave Louis perspiring so Nick can lick the bit where beads of sweat gather in the sensuous curve of his collarbone. He wants to follow the trail of hair from Louis’ belly-button to his cock and tongue at it when it’s spent, sensitive and just on the cusp of painful. He wants to trace the lines of Louis’ tattoo with his tongue and leave a love-bite on the part of Louis’ neck where his pulse skips and jumps. He wants to do _everything_. Need crashes over him in waves and Nick focuses on the way Louis responds to the slow twist and curl of Nick’s fingers. He breathes in the masculine, heady scent of arousal and sweat and he shoves Louis’ knee back against his chest, cursing as he gets more lube and then pushing three fingers into Louis which makes him puff and pant as he clenches around Nick and balls his hands up in the sheets.

Nick slides off Louis’ cock, murmuring in a rough voice he barely recognises. “Want you to come for me, darling. So fucking lovely. Want to see you. Want to hear you. Want you.” Nick’s never this bloody soppy. He’s all cheek and sass and good at pretending he’s a heartless bastard even when he’s not. He’s good at being confident in those moments where if he lets them the voices of insecurity and anxiety rattle in his head and leave him unsure and questioning everything. He’s good at deflecting and keeping a sensible distance between the heart stuff and the cock stuff. Not now. Now he’s as in tune with the swooping in his stomach and the reckless thrum of his heart as he is with the ache in his cock and the need which claws through his skin and slides through his veins like treacle. 

“Nick,” Louis says. He sounds broken and unsteady. Nick’s name on his lips is followed by a sigh and a gasp; a low, filthy moan which sends Nick’s heart spiking. Louis speaks again, another ragged whisper of Nick’s name. “ _Nick_.”

Nobody’s ever said Nick’s name like that. He’s never heard anyone breathe out his name like a plea or a prayer. He’s never heard someone say his name the way Louis does, breathless and arching under Nick as something inside him snaps. Louis groans as he pulses inside Nick’s mouth and his climax spills from his body with Nick catching every last bit of it. It’s salty and bitter and Nick’s so into Louis he thinks he would let Louis do that again and again, if he could. Let him come over Nick’s chest, on his lips, his face. He wants to drown in Louis. Breathe him in and then never come up for air.

His body shaking, Nick slides up to meet Louis’ parted lips in a kiss. It’s almost too much after everything. He shoves his hands into Louis’ hair, not caring that they’re sticky with lube and clammy with sweat. They’re both messy and hot – the room far too warm and the night air too balmy to offer any respite. It doesn’t matter. It makes it better, somehow. There’s something primal and urgent about the moment as they breathe one another in and get filthy, dirty, lost in one another all over again. Nick can’t stop the pleas which fall from his lips when Louis’ fingers finally slide and curl around his prick. He jerks into Louis’ fist and yanks him into another fierce kiss which is mainly teeth, tongue and breathless sentences which feel too big to be spoken in anything louder than whispers.

When he finally tumbles over the edge, Nick clutches at Louis and bites down on the part of his neck which meets his shoulder. He muffles his sharp cry of pleasure in Louis’ skin and then rolls them over when he finishes so Louis is on top of him. He urges Louis’ legs apart, hoisting him close and putting his hands back on Louis’ excellent, _excellent_ bum, squeezing hard.

“Nick.” Louis sounds amused, if a bit breathless. “Nick?”

“Hmm?” Christ, Nick could almost go again. He thinks his dick wants to because it twitches feebly as Louis rocks against him. His hands want to explore Louis again. He wants to spread Louis open and tongue at him. God, that’s filthy. He doesn’t care. He wants to do it anyway. He wants to do _everything_. 

“ _Nick_.” Louis’ definitely laughing now, his amusement tickling Nick’s skin. “Give us a minute, will you?”

“Yeah.” Nick gives Louis’ bum a final, reluctant squeeze. His cheeks heat and he’s a little bit embarrassed by the sheer force of his desire for Louis. “Soz.”

“S’alright.” Louis laughs again and he fucks up Nick’s hair, playing with the quiffiest bit for some nefarious purpose of his own. His eyes are bright and his smile’s as wide as Nick’s ever seen it. “Want to go again?”

Nick’s wings flutter and he can hardly bring himself to speak. “Think so. Not ready just yet, but…yeah. Want to fuck. Or rim you. Or…” Nick swallows and Louis kisses him, far more sweetly than Nick deserves given the utterly shameless thoughts careering through his mind.

“Let’s have a shower. In a bit. Want to finger you too. Can I?”

Nick shivers and he swallows, staring at Louis. “Yeah. You can do that.”

“Sick.” Louis looks like a smug tit and Nick doesn’t blame him. They stretch out together, Louis’ leg slung over Nick and Nick playing with the curve of Louis’ bum and making him hiss as he pushes against Nick, his cock half-hard. “You’re a bit pervy. For an angel.”

“Am a bit.” Nick smiles into another kiss, giving Louis’ bum a light swat. It makes Louis _unf_ and press into Nick a bit harder, which is interesting to say the least. “I’m only just getting started.”

“Are you?” Louis sounds hopeful. He runs his fingers through the hair on Nick’s chest. “Got a few tricks of my own, too.”

“Magic,” Nick says. It’s a bad joke. Not even a joke at all, really, but _a few tricks_ makes him think of Louis pulling a rabbit out of a hat. His heart finally settling to a normal beat again and he turns to face Louis. “That was a bit more than a kiss and a cuddle.”

“Yeah.” Louis doesn’t sound bothered. If anything, he sounds pleased with himself. “Those wings of yours must really get you going.”

Nick is tempted to make a joke. Tempted to say yes, his wings are brilliant like that. Instead, he focuses on the hopeful look in Louis’ eyes and the way his lips curve in a half smile. He touches his finger to the corner of Louis’ smile and then strokes a mark on his neck, left by one of those moments when Nick couldn’t get enough of sucking at Louis’ skin. 

“Not really the wings, pet. Think it must be something else.”

“Do you?” Louis shifts closer to Nick. “Any idea what?”

Nick grins at Louis and kisses him soundly. “None at all.”

“Liar,” Louis says.

Nick laughs and kisses him again.

*

Time passes in a blur after that. A blur of sex, conversations through the night and evenings in front of the enormous telly, watching films and crap shows.

Nick moves into Louis’ room because he hates sleeping alone and Louis doesn’t seem to like it much, either. Whenever Louis gets sad it’s like Nick’s wings sense it before Nick does. They’re so finely attuned to Louis, it’s amazing. They curl around him and keep him close even when Nick panics and pushes away. There are nights when Nick presses his cheek against Louis’ hot skin and is content just to listen to Louis breathe. It’s weird, terrifying and not like Nick at all.

Some nights Nick lies awake and listens to the ticking of the clock. There are those evenings when Nick gets so lost in the twists, shivers and pulses of Louis that it gets quiet. 

Then there are other nights, when the steady _tick, tick_ is deafening.

*

Nick is more acutely away than ever of time slipping past. He’s got three new grey hairs and a new wrinkle developing on his forehead. He feels like he’s inside an egg-timer and the sand’s nearly all disappeared. He clutches onto Louis, drawing him in and kissing him with a fierce desperation which surprises them. Louis digs his fingers into Nick’s back and curls around him as if he feels it too. _We two boys together clinging,_ Nick thinks. Whitman. He learned that in his Human Literary History class.

“Nick?” Louis’ voice is small in the darkness and it makes Nick’s chest tight. His wings curl around Louis and Nick pulls him close, pressing his lips against Louis’ hot neck. His skin is still damp from the heat of the night and he tastes salty and sweet at the same time. Outside the distant thrum of West Hollywood at night envelops them – the moan of the cars and the occasional shout which sidles uneasily next to quiet sounds of the water in the pool lapping over the edges and the soft flutter of the summer breeze in the trees. The room is still but for the sound of their breathing. 

“Yeah?”

“Can I come with you? When you go?” 

“No, love.” Nick’s voice is gruff and he holds Louis tighter. “That’s not how it works.”

“Then stay,” Louis says. “ _Stay_.”

Nick just holds on as tightly as he can. He doesn’t say out loud _that’s not how it works, either_ because he’s not sure he trusts himself to speak.

Nick wants to rage at the Powers That Be for bringing him here and making him do this. He wants Louis. Wants him in a way that’s selfish, greedy and all-consuming. He wants Louis to taste the sunlight with him. Wants him to be by Nick’s side for the rest of time, until they’re stardust. He wants Louis with the kind of bone-shaking desire he’s never felt before. The want is bigger than all the heavens and brighter than all the stars. It’s _Louis_ and Nick can’t believe there was a time when he didn’t know how warm everything feels when you’re in love with a beautiful, impossible boy.

Nick presses his lips to Louis’ skin again and tries to fight back the tears.

He knows what he needs to do. 

It’s time.

*

The morning Nick leaves is all grey sky, grey clouds and air that’s cold and thick with city smog. He watches Louis sleep and he tells himself he’s doing the right thing.

He can’t let Louis come with him. Coming with Nick means dying, and Louis doesn’t want that. He’s young, fit and he’s got a family he adores. Sisters he looks after. People that need Louis Tomlinson in their lives. Nick doesn’t want to make him choose. Nick wants Louis to live. He wants the world to be able to have Louis’ passion and heart. He wants Louis to live until he’s old and he can sleep his final sleep with his feet by the fire. Nick doesn’t want Louis to leave the world now in a burst of fire. He wants to be there after Louis falls asleep somewhere around old age, with a person who can pull the blanket up to his chin and watch him smile because he’s just so happy. Just so warm. Being a Guardian Angel means protecting someone, not allowing them to follow you willingly into the Elsewhere. Nick knows Louis needs someone who can wrap them in their arms, not their wings. It’s not time for that. Not yet. Not for Louis.

As much as Nick wants to stay, he knows he can’t. He doesn’t want Louis to have to put up with a bloke with enormous rainbow wings that can’t even leave the sprawling house on the Hills. Louis deserves someone who can go to the beach with him. Someone who can watch the footie and eat toffee apples on bonfire night. He deserves someone who can go for a pint with him and jostle their knees together under the table while the world trips and spins around them. Louis needs someone who can meet his friends and family and do all the things Louis talks about like it’s a dream that’s hovering somewhere just out of reach. Nick will feel like that to Louis, one day. He’ll occupy that place between sleep and waking which is hazy and ill-defined. If he’s done anything for Louis, it’s to show him the possibility. He hopes he’s reminded Louis how good it feels to be _alive_.

So, Nick leaves. He kisses Louis on the forehead and watches Louis mumble in his sleep, drinks in the small smile that tugs at Louis’ lips. He kisses him again, because Nick’s so gone for Louis and he can’t imagine not being able to press his lips against the hot skin on Louis’ body every single morning.

Maybe. Maybe one day. Nick feels as though Louis’ the sort to get wings. He’s kind, Louis is. Kind and sweeter than he lets on. Generous with his time and genuinely interested in helping people. He’s the sort they’d name stars after. _That_ sort.

Nick’s throat is scratchy and his mouth dry. One more minute. The clock ticks and each second is louder than the last.

Thirty seconds.

Twenty-four.

Seventeen.

Nick can’t breathe. He needs his puff-puff and he draws the gas between his lips with a sharp inhale.

Three, two, one.

Just as Nick disappears, Louis open his eyes.

*

Nick holds the glass ball in the palm of his hand and watches it spin. It catches in the sunlight and the light refracts and bends through the glass, causing rainbow-coloured strands of light to flicker and settle on the circumference. It’s a Watcher. Something Guardian Angels get, when there’s someone they’ve been assigned to watch over. Nick didn’t know that. Didn’t know he could _keep watching_. It’s exquisite torture, watching Louis trip about in his huge house. He nearly breaks down over Louis eating a couple of potato waffles at the huge dining room table built for a full house and a crowded room. He screams into his pillow with frustration when Louis whispers Nick’s name and goes back again and again to the wardrobe Nick hid in before Louis found him.

Louis always opens the door, his eyes shining with hope. The wardrobe stays empty and the light in his eyes goes out. Louis’ eyes aren’t meant to be dull. They’re meant to shine with every sharp smile and burst of laughter. There are supposed to be stars in them. Bright, blue and gorgeous. Nick spins the Watcher faster as the days pass at a painstaking pace. He expects Louis to get brighter, the weight to lift just a little. Instead the clouds around him seem darker than ever with each passing day.

“Grim?”

Nick looks up at Aimee, his favourite angel. He rubs his eyes with the back of his hand and puts down the Watcher. He thinks he might be going mad.

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

“Liar.” Aimee sits next to him and she brushes her fingers over his wings. It’s not sexy when she does it. It’s just soft, soothing and it makes Nick shiver as his anguish pulses through him. “Your wings are turning brown. Where’s the rainbow?”

“Dunno.” Nick puts his head in his hands and tries to breathe. In, out. “I didn’t even know him that long. It should be easier than this. For both of us. He should get himself a nice lad and forget about me. I should be out shagging demons again. Doing one of those fit angels who arrived the other day. The blond. Jordan, something.”

“Doesn’t work like that.” Aimee drops her hands into her lap and clears her throat. “I think you got it wrong. I don’t think you were supposed to leave.”

Nick turns to stare at her. “They wouldn’t have let me back if I needed more time with him.”

“They would.” Aimee nods. “They didn’t tell you to fuck off because of that demon, Grim. It’s because they know you’ve got a stupid, bold heart and they found someone who needs it. It was the right time. You know they weren’t punishing you, not really. If they’d have told you to go off and fall in love with someone it would never have happened.”

“It might have done,” Nick mutters.

Aimee rolls her eyes. “You’re a stubborn ass and notoriously terrified of commitment. It wouldn’t have worked.”

“So why am I back here at all?” Nick rubs his temple, his head throbbing. 

Aimee nods at the Watcher. “Because you wouldn’t believe it, if he told you. Wouldn’t believe him even when he asked you to stay. You needed a bit of time to see him missing you.”

Nick swallows. “Bit unfair.”

Aimee nods. “Their idea, not mine.”

Nick tries to clear his head. “What the fuck do I do now?”

“You’re supposed to help him. For when it’s time for him to get his wings. There are people he’s going to want to see when it happens and they won’t be here. But you will.”

“I just…wait?” Nick looks carefully at Aimee. She looks sad and his stomach rolls. “ _No_. He’s not coming here, not yet.”

“No,” Aimee says. “Not yet. But you’re going back.” She takes a breath and it shudders when she exhales. “He’s going to tell you about Jay, soon. It’s hard for him now and it’s going to be hard again, when he gets here. Because of that. Like losing someone all over again. I think you’ve given him hope. Who doesn’t think their mum’s an angel?”

Nick shakes his head, his voice rough. _Louis_. “I didn’t know.”

“But you will. You’ll know all of it. In time. No one really knows about him preferring men. He’s going to tell you that too. You’ll be good with that. The best.”

“What if I cock it all up?” The same panicky feeling Nick had when he thought about Louis selling his house rolls over him. “I don’t want him to be trapped. What if we don’t work out?”

“You won’t cock it up.” Aimee squeezes Nick’s leg. “You’re going to be brilliant, darling. Just _brilliant_.”

“I might not be. Might be rubbish,” Nick says.

Aimee shrugs. “If you are, we’ll be here. You can come back, whenever you want. I’ll be watching.” Aimee picks up the Watcher and it spins, showing the empty wardrobe Nick woke up in all those months ago. “I’m always been watching you, Grim.”

“Creepy.” Nick lets out a sniffle because _Aimee_. Aimee and Pixie and Gellz. Eileen and Pete. All the people he loves. They’re all here. All but one. “Who’s the Guardian Angel, here?”

“Both of us.” Aimee grins. “You didn’t think you wouldn’t have one of your own, did you?”

“I did, actually.” Nick winces. “You’re not watching all the time, are you?”

Aimee cackles. “I’ve got better things to do than watch you shag your gorgeous pop star, thank you. I know when to look away.”

“Thank god.” Nick grins at Aimee. “Besides, you’re going to be too busy snogging Ian, I bet.”

“Yep.” Aimee pats her round belly. “And helping this one get her wings.”

“I don’t want to miss it.” Nick puts his hand on Aimee’s stomach and there’s a little kick against his hand. “She’s going to be all grown up when I get back.”

“Not really.” Aimee shakes her head. “You don’t exactly look three-hundred-and-sixty, do you?”

“You haven’t seen me with a hangover.” Nick crosses his eyes and Aimee laughs.

“Idiot.”

“Yeah.” Nick stops laughing, studying Aimee carefully. “I can come back for good and you’ll all still be here?”

“Of course.” Aimee nods. “You’re stuck with us forever, Grim. Your mum’s already talking about making that cheese and onion pie you like for when you get back.”

The tightness in Nick’s chest increases. “Eileen needs to go easy on the carbs.”

“You’ll soon fly it off.” Aimee rolls her eyes and she gives Nick a kiss on the head. “Ready?”

“Yeah.” Nick clutches Aimee’s hand and he leans in to kiss her cheek. She’s warm and smells like perfume. Her cheek is salty with tears and from the corner of his eye he sees the Watcher spinning faster, getting lighter with every rotation.

“Aims?”

“Don’t you forget us, Grim. Don’t you bloody _dare_.” Aimee’s voice sounds softer now, the whirring of the Watcher loud and insistent. “We’re going to have parties when you get back.” Her breath is warm on the shell of his ear as she leans closer, her voice a low whisper.

_see you in a bit, babe_

Everything shifts and spins and then all at once, Nick’s world turns black.

*

Nick opens his eyes and blinks into the familiar surroundings. He’s in a wardrobe. A massive, walk-in wardrobe. An electronic keyboard _plunk, plunks_ inside and Nick struggles to his feet. He instinctively flexes his back, but there’s nothing. No sneezing, no wings. Just a dull pain in his back and an emptiness which makes him panic. He rummages in his pocket and finds his inhaler, giving it a shake.

He breathes in. The keyboard stops.

Just as it always does around this time, the door to the wardrobe opens. Just as he always does around this time, Louis peers inside. His eyes are circled with shadows and his hands shake on the doorknob. He’s a mixture of anger, furious anguish and a sad, small, glimmer of hope.

Louis pales when he sees Nick leaning heavily against one of the cupboards. “Nick?”

“My wings…” Nick’s having a bit of a panic attack and the inhaler isn’t helping. “Where the fuck are my wings?”

Louis moves swiftly inside and he catches Nick when he stumbles. Catches him in the full force of a hug and Nick can feel the pounding of Louis’ heart against his chest, can taste Louis on his lips again and breathes in the familiar scent of citrus fruits and summer.

“I’ve got you,” Louis says.

And for the first time since he got his wings, Nick lets himself be held.

*

They establish that Nick’s wings are gone completely and that there are two lines – rainbow tattoos – where the wings used to be. Nick twists and looks at them critically in the mirror.

“This is worse than having a tattoo of your face on my arse. They look stupid.”

“They don’t.” Louis runs his fingers over them and it feels good, but normal. Like normal fingers on normal skin. It doesn’t send a spark through Nick’s body anymore – or at least nothing out of the ordinary. Louis’ touch still generates _some_ sparks, but the ones you would expect when a fit bloke gets you semi-naked and strokes your back. The human kind. “I like them. Anyway, why wouldn’t you get a tattoo of my face on your arse? I’ve got a good face.”

“And I’ve got a good arse.” Nick admires it in the mirror. He really does have a nice bum, even if he says so himself. Not as nice as Louis’ of course, but good enough. 

“Are you back for good?” Louis does that thing where he tries to sound not at all bothered and doesn’t quite manage.

“Looks like it.” Nick stops looking at himself and pulls on a t-shirt. It’s got The Rolling Stones on the front and it’s weird, wearing something without holes cut out for his wings. He checks his pockets and rolls his eyes.

“The least they could have done is give me a wallet. This is stupid. I’ve got no money, no clothes. Nothing.”

“You’ve got me,” Louis says. He looks a bit fierce. “You’ve got me.”

“Do I?” Nick takes in the stubble on Louis’ face and the dark circles under his eyes. He’s so sorry. So fucking sorry for leaving. He didn’t want to go. He hopes Louis knows that. He reckons he might have some explaining to do. “How long’s it been for you?”

“Three weeks, two days and sixteen hours,” Louis says. The pink in his cheeks deepen. “I’m guessing.”

Nick breathes out through his teeth because thank fuck it wasn’t a year or something. Even if it felt like twenty. “Still haven’t learned any new songs, though.” He grins and Louis gives him a look. _Louis_. Nick’s heart does a little hop and a skip and he gets a funny, fluttery feeling in his stomach. His Louis.

“Come on, you tit.” Louis drags Nick through the house. He rummages through a cabinet in the living room and comes back with a triumphant look on his face and a bottle of something that looks strong and alcoholic. “Drink?”

“Yeah.” Nick really loves Louis. He doesn’t actually know if Louis loves him because they haven’t really said yet, but Nick’s been watching enough to think he might. “I’m no one here. Like, a shadow or something. I’m _no one_.”

“You are to me,” Louis says. He pours them both a drink, his hand slips into Nick’s and he squeezes hard. It helps. “You’re someone to me.”

“Okay.” Nick nods. 

_Okay, okay_.

*

They’re on the second glass of vodka when there’s a thump from the wardrobe.

“Expecting someone?” Louis looks as though Nick’s invited a load of angels over for a party.

“No.” Nick frowns. “I don’t get it. It won’t be any of my lot. Angels can’t just…travel…like that. Not without good reason.”

“Maybe I’m actually being robbed this time.” Louis tugs Nick through the house and grabs a knife from the kitchen. The bloody bread knife again. Nick hides behind Louis, because he’s brave like that.

“No one’s going to nick your mouldy footie boots.” He gives Louis a little shove towards the door. “Go on, then.”

“Some Guardian Angel you are.” Louis rolls his eyes at Nick and opens the door. “I’ve called the police and we’re armed and dangerous so you’d better get the fuck-”

“ _Woof_.”

Louis lowers the knife as a tiny dog that looks a bit like a bull terrier barrels towards them with another bark. She puts her paws up on Nick and then chases her tail before picking up one of Louis’ footie boots and chewing contentedly on it.

“Nick?” Louis sounds a bit hysterical. “What the fuck?”

“No idea. _No_ idea.” Nick crouches down and tips the little dog’s head back. There’s a collar with a name badge on and a note. He looks at the collar. _Pig Grimshaw_ , it says. He extracts the note and it smells like Aimee’s familiar perfume.

_Who lands in a wardrobe and doesn’t have a nosey in the drawers? I expected more of you._

_You’re not on your own, babe._

_Knock ‘em dead._

Nick gets on his knees and opens the drawer. It’s all there. Bank cards. Account details. A birth certificate. Even some GCSE and ‘A’ Level results.

“You’re not as rich as me,” Louis says, his nose in the bank statements. 

“Obviously not. I wasn’t in One Direction, was I?”

“Nope.” Louis looks smug. He waves the GCSE certificates around. “This is hilarious. You’re as bad as me and people made up your grades. If they were gonna do that, least they could have done is get you into one of those posh universities or something.”

“Not really a posh university sort.” Nick looks at the grades with a grin. It’s not like he’s going to end up being some kind of rocket scientist, but he doesn’t need to be. Wouldn’t even want to be. “Perhaps I could do something with fashion?”

“You wish, mate.” Louis gives Nick a look. “You can go anywhere, then. Do anything.”

“Yeah.” Nick stands and he tugs Louis close.

“What’s first on the list?” Louis looks a bit worried.

“You,” Nick says. He slides his hands to Louis’ bum and gives it a squeeze. “Just you.”

“Dead romantic.” Louis relaxes and gives Nick a smile. He pokes him. “Could have told me you had a fucking dog.”

“I didn’t until now.” Pig trots over to them, looking up at them and wagging her tail. “She’s alright though, isn’t she?”

“Yeah.” Louis gives Pig a pat and she licks his hand. “Love dogs, me.”

“Me too.” Nick breathes in the scent of Louis and nuzzles his neck. He wants to use some of his money to go out and buy loads of dog stuff and then he wants to close the door to their bedroom and not come up for air for a good few hours. “ _We’ve_ got a dog. She might be a Grimshaw, but she’s ours now. I might have a bit of cash but I can’t afford a house in the Hollywood Hills so you’re stuck with us for a while.”

“That’s alright.” Louis shrugs and looks away, but not before Nick catches him flushing. “I don’t mind being stuck with you.”

“Lucky for me,” Nick says.

He kisses Louis and it’s hot and sexy and _good_ until Pig cocks her leg and wees on Nick’s ankle.

Louis doesn’t stop laughing about it for weeks.

_~Fin~_


End file.
